Break My Back, Not My Heart(Pt1)
Loki x Reader
Warnings: Daddy Kink, Nicknames(pet, good girl, etc.), Smut, angst, choking kink, Lies (From the God of Lies himself) and a slight Cliffhanger.
A/n: Okay in case you don't know Sigyn is Loki's wife in Norse Mythology. I may follow this up with a part two later on. Once again I apologize for this.
Summary: You and Loki are engaged, your alone for a night in the Tower together, what was meant to be a sweaty, romantic night, takes a sharp turn in the wring Direction.
Word Count: 1.3k
(I love his face!!!!)
"And I care why? No. I said have it done."
"I don't care. I hired you for this reason."
"I am two weeks away from my wedding. You had the list of things to do. As my official planner you should get it done and if not. No pay."
"Alright, thank you so much Adrienne!"
You sit at your work desk typing a frenzy when you feel the cold stare of someone from the doorway.
"I don't have muck time Loke if your coming to say hi might wanna hurry up."
"Excuse me Miss but where is this attitude coming from. I don't like it." Loki stalks to you pressing his large hands onto your shoulders starting to work out the tension.
"Well I am sorry Your highness, I have a wedding to pull off. OUR wedding. So I'm a little stressed okay?"
" I just came to tell you I'm cooking tonight. So we aren't going out. We also have the tower to ourself so, nobody is here to bother us." He added obviously flirting but you were too caught up in choosing wither Pansys or Petunias would be a better choice you didn't even retain what he was saying.
"Y/n L/n, are you even listening to me."
"Oh course dear, sounds good" you reply mechanically.
Loki swivels your chair and grips your throat not too tight but enough to catch your attention.
"I guess I'll just have to fuck the attitude out of you then. See how much of a brat you are after I make you my little cum slut." He growls into your ear.
"Loki, baby. I'm sorry" you weren't scared but you also wanted to walk in the morning.
" Can I please just finish up. We can finish this" you run your hand down his fit, black button up covered, torso. "After dinner"
He sighed and muttered somethings out you trying to take charge. And he's in control, but you control him.
You love being his pet. Live for him to take care of you, fuck you senseless, but you also are your own person, your independent, it's what he first found so appealing about you. He always respects your boundaries.
An hour passes and your phone buzzes on the table beside your laptop
You lift it to ready the text
*Future Husband*- Dinner is finished. Hope your hungry....;)
You smirk at the cheeky message and shut your laptop, you finally made the last of the pre wedding day arrangements, time to spoil, more like get spoiled, by your man. Your God.
You step into the dining room, no Loki or food. You go into the kitchen and you spot the food, but you also spot Loki, stark naked, pouring wine.
"Hey my Queen, I made your favorite, Tika Masala and rice. And I brought dessert." He winked. Your face flushes and quickly you feel less hungry for dinner and more so for dessert.
"Lo-" he cuts you off.
"Sit. Now. Eat, and drink your whole cup of water. Or you may just have to sleep without dessert, understood pet?"
"Yes sir" you shake your head.
He brings your your plate and you go to sit at the table, before you do, you feel a tingle sensation around you and look down to find Loki has dissipated your clothing. So your both in the kitchen, at Stark tower, naked.
You whine a little to complain, but are met with reprimanding tsks.
"You should watch it and be My good girl."
Then you sit down and eat. Rather quickly.
"Y/n drink your water." Loki states.
"But I'm full and I can't." You whine.
"If your full then You don't need me to fill you up. So I guess we can go to bed after this and just sleep."
You whine as he smirks at you. You down the rest of the water.
"Daddy can You carry me to our room. I want you there tonight. Please" as much as it thrills you to have Sex on every surface in the tower, you just want the intimacy of your shared bed.
"Yes my love, if that will make you more comfortable."
You stand and walk to him he stands and lifts you effortlessly.
When you make it to your room it's like both of you just become primal. Your instincts and urges to be one take over.
Loki kisses you rough and deep hiking you together souls intertwining he moves his mouth down to your breasts being careful and deliberate. He then moves his long fingers down your body, he loved every inch of you, every roll, scar, stretch mark, every freckle, and everything you once saw as a flaw, he just sees you.
One night he spent 3 hours kissing you and telling you how beautiful you are to him. It took years for him to let his walls down for you, but every hour you spent crying or screaming because he wasn't open with you, was worth only a few moments of his tender love, his soft side, your Loki, the man, the God you were going to spend the rest of your life with.
But gentle was the last thing on either of your mins when he ran his hard cock through your wet folds before thrusting into you bottoming out. You scream out in pleasure, the feeling of his vainy girth moving in and out of you was too much to bear.
When you arch your back, he slams his hand down on your hip holding you down into the bed.
suddenly with no warning he lifted both your legs over your shoulder reaching not just your g spot, but every possible sensitive place.
"Oh Gods, Loki, so good." You yell out.
"Thats right baby, only for you, all for you." He grunts
Your both inching closer to your climax, you feel that coil tighten in your belly, right as you feel yourself clenching around his Godly cock, Loki yells out too.
"Sigyn, yes come for me." You stop moving. All arousal vanishes.
"What?!" you yell trying to push the man off you
"Who the FUCK is Sigyn?!" "Who is she Loki."
"What are you talking about, fuck, whats your problem?"
"You yelled another womans name Loki." You try not to, but tears start falling from your eyes.
"Pull out of me please, I cant. Just please."
"Darling, Sigyn is not a person, It is an Asgardian term, meaning Victorious partner. It is a complement, please calm down."
"Oh" You breathe out. "Im sorry, Im just so stressed I-" You dont finish your sentence because he cuts you off.
"Its okay. I understand.Do you wish to finish or do you want to rest?" he asked still in you, stroking your hair.
"Lets rest." You say still shaken up from the thought of him with someone else.
"Okay" He says pulling out and wrapping your body in his own.
You don't sleep much that night. And when you research "sigyn" the next day, you don't sleep for months.
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- "I'm still mad at you, though."
- "Is this the best time to have a marital discussion?"
- "You have to be joking, right? After you screw up?"
- "Okay, alright, my bad." (Steve walks close) "Look, I'm gonna make it up to you."
- "Your usual methods of appealing to me with fancy dinners and gifts ain't gonna cut it this time."
- "I don't need to do any of those things." (kisses Bucky) "I just need to... make an effort."
Read ficlet on AO3
Stucky AU - Just Married
(hues were a bit hard to match)
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[START] [ABOUT AND WARNINGS] [FAQ]
Steve/ Agree to the walk
You follow Steve back outside and he offers you his hand. It’s a rare gesture from him out in the world. You will get offered his elbow semi-regularly, but hand holding is usually something kept to sitting on the couch together. You link your fingers with his and begin the walk through the Vermont countryside.
The air is cool and crisp and after being in the city and the long drive to get here, you have to admit, getting out outside where the air was clean does make a nice change. There is something else you can’t deny. This is romantic. Straight from the book romance. The only thing that would make it more romantic was if there had been rose petals laid out on the bed when you’d arrived. You cuddle up to Steve as you walk and without letting go of your hand, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, so your hand is held over your heart as you walk. Each step you take creates the crunch of freshly fallen leaves and gravel and even that somehow adds to the ambiance.
“The air feels easier to breathe out here, doesn’t it?” You say.
“Mm… I wonder what it would have been like if I’d grown up somewhere like this, instead of Brooklyn. I mean, asthma is asthma, but surely all that pollution wouldn’t have helped?” Steve muses.
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” you chuckle.
“I will say, I’m definitely a city boy,” he says. “This is a nice change, but I think I’d miss the noise.”
You smile and nudge him. “Steve Rogers likes to be where the action is? Well, I never!”
He laughs and pulls you down against his chest and kisses the top of your head. “You got me.”
You reach up and pluck a leaf from a tree as you pass under it. It’s large and bright red. You spin it around in front of you and hold it up to your face. “Look at the size of this thing,” you say. “It’s as big as my head.”
Steve looks at you with such a soft expression it makes your heart skip a beat. He stops and cradles your jaw, looking deep into your eyes. You lose yourself in the soft blue of his and lean in a little. “I love you,” he says softly.
There is no build-up to it. No giant declaration. It’s simple and tender and so genuine that for a moment it feels like time stops.
Say it back
Don’t say it back
Chris Evans LOVES rollerblading!
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Steve Rogers x reader
Warnings: domestic Steve, fluff, mentions of Trauma, angst, Post Endgame Steve(that’s a warning in itself)
A/n: this one actually hurt to read but I really love it. All mistakes are my own. I thought about making this a Series. But for now it’s a short little One Shot.
Summary: After Thanos, you and Longtime Boyfriend Steve Rogers live your life, but everything isn’t what it’s seems.
Word count: 504
The door opens and you hear Steve call out from the hall "Hey baby doll, I'm home."
"In the kitchen dear" You respond as you finish putting the muffins in the oven. As you dust your hands on your apron you feel two arms wrap around your waist, and a small kiss on the base of your neck.
"Missed you so much today, Sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye this morning." Steve says still wrapped around you.
"Its fine my love, I understand, you have a world to save." You really didn't mind, you still just woke up happy to have him here and alive.
After Thanos, Steve went back to return the stones, he came back to you safe, an shortly after you married, and settled down. He worked with Sam occasionally, but he took over The Avengers Compound and started training new recruits. Bucky and him went to therapy together twice a week to help Bucky readjust now that he was pardoned. Life was as great as it could get. You were finally getting over the death of your Best friend Natasha, and your older Brother, Tony. Gone but never forgotten. You felt thankful you had your love here, Pepper and Morgan lost so much, not to mention how hard Wanda is taking everything with Vision.
"What are you baking?" Steve asked trailing kisses up your neck making you shiver, in the best way.
"Blueberry muffins." You giggle.
"Mm, sounds great my love." He lifts you up on the counter standing in between your legs.
"Steve, I don't know what I would do without you, I feel like I need you to live." you look into his eyes holding his cheeks you begin to cry.
"Don't ever leave me, please, I need you like I need air, please never leave me." You go to kiss him again, but he cuts you off.
"Darling I already left, I'm not really here you know that, I left you for Peggy."
then the walls around you began to dissapate, and your sitting in a room at the Avengers compound, Wanda sitting beside you.
"Y/n, you have to stop doing this, its been months since he left, you need help."
"Wanda why did you do that." You begin to sob.
"Listen, Y/n, Bucky and Sam both think it's best if you start seeing a therapist with Bucky. I think losing everyone so quickly is taking a toll on your mental heath, you can't keep asking me to give you illusions of him." Wanda Sighed and looked at you.
"your right" You admit, then you fall into Wanda's arms.
"Why did he leave me? Was I not good enough?" You sob uncontrallably.
"You are more than enough, Y/n" Bucky says from the doorway
"Bucky, we should take her to her room." Sam says
"Shhh, she is asleep." Wanda speaks quietly while transporting you to your room with her mind.
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Okay, I’m back.
I don’t know why I didn’t become active for so long, since, everyone is being a simp over Bucky and Steve I am here now, again.
We are now going insanely crazy over them. I’m so happy that there is a lot of TikTok creator who creates videos about Bucky and Steve, not just about them but also ‘bout Avengers. Let’s get crazy now!!!!
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Chapter 48 // SHADOW BOXING
┍━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┑
“Romanoff, Barton, take the right...we’ll come up behind him—” Steve started as he rounded the corner in front of you, the metal of his shield glancing off what little light entered the stairwell and illuminated your lurking form.
“Or,” you hummed, your cloaked voice harmonizing with itself in the stairwell. Steve jumped, raising his shield in front of him and the team, “You could meet me mask-to-face.”
Steve froze, staring at you like a deer in the headlights, “Jesus Christ.”
“No, just me,” you shrugged, not bothering to get up as the rest of his team came into view, “Just...Ghost.”
┕━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┙
» Chapter 48 // Shadow Boxing «
| Battle Scarred : Aftermath | »Darke15
wanna live comment as you read? click here
#wraith_revealed ... ?
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Hi Y’all, just wanted to say sorry for not posting anything at the moment , fun fact actually I just got a 3 month kitten yesterday and he’s a lot of work and I’m still in tafe and have a lot of work to catch up on. But this week is my last week then it’s holidays. Which I’m looking forward to, so I’ll start on the request then. Sorry for anyone who’s been waiting. Also! I’m thinking about starting a Series for The Walking Dead. Lmk what you think :).
Wanda Maximoff aka Scarlet Witch
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Im venturing into the world of writing fanfic and was wondering if anyone here would be down to proofread or help edit my first fic! Message me if you’re interested, moots and non moots alike! I’m so excited to get my First work out into the universe!
For future reference I write Natasha x reader and Wanda x reader fics! Basically anything wlw with marvel :)
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Natasha Romanoff x reader
(A/N: I just wanted to write a fluffy one shot for Natasha lol I will forever love Natasha Romanoff, and I’m so excited for her movie 😭Anyways as always sorry in advanced for any spelling and grammatical errors)
Warnings: Language, mentions of death, violence, some angst lol
I watched Natasha stealthily descend down the fire escape, through the view hole of my sniper. Mission was simple. I was her eyes while she gathered the intel. We were in Brussels, stealing specs from a known Russian arms dealer. The intel is believed to have a formula of the super soldier serum. Which if correct could make a hefty weapons race. Every country would pay for that formula.
“Entering from the 7th floor 4th window. Any friends to play with?” Nat asked in the coms.
I turned the infrared lens on my view hole. I saw three heat signatures in the hold and two in the room and a butt load of nuclear signatures.
“Three buddies, and two to the left. Want me to take them out?” I asked.
She paused as if considering it. “Hmm why let you have the fun? Just watch my 6.” She said heading in.
I rolled my eyes and watched Nat beat the shit out of everyone on the floor. I had to admit watching the Black Widow in action was always hot. Technically I was a Black Widow too but I never graduated, instead I was kidnapped and brainwashed by the organization of assassins HAND in Madripoor and became one of their top assassins for a couple years before Fury brought me into SHIELD, and they deprogramed me.
“I’m in, which door?” Nat asked slightly out of breath.
I looked at the specs of the building on the cell. And then looked at my sniper scope to see the body count in the room.
“Should be down the hall after you take a left. Last room, body count 5 guards, two moving. I can’t get a clean shot from here. I’m moving in.” I said slinging the sniper rifle over my shoulder and grabbing the gear bag.
“I’m a big girl, I don’t need your help.” Nat insisted.
I rolled my eyes and jumped onto the building over. I glanced at the building and frowned, still can’t see. I rushed to the Fire escape around the corner and peaked into my sniper scope to take a look.
“Are you in position?” Nat asked.
I had a not so terrible view of the room. I sighed, and decided it’d have to do.
“Yeah.” I confirmed.
“Good, I’m going in.”
I smiled watching Nat go in and silently disarming a man twice her size. I took the shot of someone coming to shank her from behind. Nat looked at my location from the window. A smirk on her face, directed towards me. I let a feeling of pride wash over me. After handling the other men for her. She was at the laptop connecting to the server, hacking for the intel.
I shot anyone who came from the door. Soon enough I heard commotion down below on the street corners. Men were starting to run into the building.
“Uh Nat how much longer?” I asked into the coms.
“A few more minutes, the internet connection here is slow.” She explained.
“Yeah we have incoming. Too many to take out from here.” I warned her. “I’ll cover you from here and give you a clean exit.”
“Oh? Here I thought you were already doing that.” She retorted her tone teasing.
I rolled my eyes, “Keep talking and I’ll watch you figure it out instead.” I threatened.
She scoffed, “I wish you would.”
I smiled, the both of us knowing I’d never actually do that. I started picking off the men below one by one. They started firing in my general direction, realizing there was a sniper. I sighed a little. Maybe a fire escape wasn’t my best location choice. I dropped the sniper rifle, and unsheathed my Katana. The Kinishin. I was known as the reaper when I was with HAND. When I completed my first kill I won this sword. The legend says this sword was made from the hands of a demon god. It is said to give strange abilities to those who earn its respect.
Of course I didn’t believe it. Until it gave me superhuman abilities. Only when I unsheathed the sword, I had enhanced precision, speed, and strength. I made my way down below and defected the bullets aimed at me with my Katana. I started picking them off one by one.
“It’s done, making my exit now.” Nat said in the coms.
I blocked a kick from below and threw a cross jab at his face. I stepped away panting, grabbing my sword and using the back of it to knock him out. The men in the street were all relatively down. I hunched over, hands on my knees trying to catch my breath.
I could hear Nat start to snicker as she saw me catching my breath. She looked completely whelmed, her eyes clearly amused at my exhaustion.
“Took you long enough.” I panted out.
She chuckled, enjoying the sight of me, “Hm next mission I’ll make sure to pack an inhaler for you.” She teased.
I narrowed my eyes at her, standing up straight. “Fuck you.” I hissed.
With the smirk on her face, and the humor in her eyes, it was clear she enjoyed my annoyance and even welcomed it.
We made it to the safe house and I cleaned my katana before sheathing it. I looked over at Nat, she was staring at me, her red hair cascading over her face messily. I forced myself not to pay too close attention to how it framed her face. Or the nervousness I felt at her green eyes piercing into me.
“What?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even. “You like the view?” I teased, trying to alleviate the intensity of her gaze.
She scoffed, shaking her head dismissively, rolling her eyes before looking away. She hesitated as if the words brought her physical pain to say.
“I just realized how much I can breathe easily when you have my 6...” She said it casually, her hands busy packing up, head not looking up.
I tilted my head, feeling butterflies erupt in my stomach as she slowly lifted her head to meet my gaze once again. Natasha was a hard girl to be around, if I let myself I’d fall right into her hands. I pushed down my feelings and gave her a smile.
“You know I always have your 6...right?” I reaffirm.
She gives me a small smile back, “I do.”
We bicker a lot, definitely bitch about the other, even joke around, but we rarely are vulnerable, we were too damaged for vulnerability. So this moment of weakness was nice. It felt like we were entertaining something that was a silent agreement not to entertain.
A tension fell on us like a suffocating blanket, one of longing and curiosity. We were staring at the other. As if waiting for which of us would break the spell. She must have sensed this tension too, because she cleared her throat and started getting ready to leave. Just like that the moment ended the second it started.
Few hours later
Nat looked at me with a smile. Not just any smile, her mischievous smile. We had just finished our mission report submissions with Hill. I gave her a side glance, as we were walking into the kitchen of the helicarrier. I grabbed a bag of Doritos as she wordlessly watched me, maintaining the same look on her face.
“You’re scaring me.” I said, giving her a suspicious look.
She only grinned wider, I narrowed my eyes realizing the grin not reaching her eyes, “You have a crush on Hill.” She vocalized.
I stopped mid bite and looked at her like she was crazy. “What the fuck? The last time I had a crush was when I was 10 and it was on a blonde.” I scoffed.
She must’ve known I meant Yelena, because her body tensed. Yet we never verbalized the names of our past. It was another silent agreement. She licked her lip, and recomposed herself. The tension, now a forgotten blip.
“Come on, I saw the way you looked at her. You are so into Hill.” She insisted, flowing right back into our conversation.
“In my defense I think most women are hot. Have you seen Agent Morse? It’s a fucking greek tragedy she’s dating Hunter.” I teased.
Nat narrowed her eyes. “Bobbi? No way you could do better. For example Hill, who I heard also likes you.” She hinted.
I froze looking at Nat again. “No way. Maria Hill? Just cause-'' I stopped myself looking around to make sure no one was listening in. “Just cause you landed Clint a girlfriend out of his league. Doesn’t make you the designated match maker of SHIELD.” I whispered with a pointed look at her.
She was eating this up, her body holding a smug posture. She leaned hopped onto the counter of the kitchen. Her eyes were watching me. I felt this nervousness, that this was only the first of her meddling into my personal life. Which was fun to watch, when she did to other people.
“You have to agree I am a miracle worker.” She smirked. “If I can find Clint fucking Barton a girl friend as hot as Laura-”
“I swear to everything good and holy, no I am not one of your projects. Nat don’t make my life a living hell.” I begged in the process, cutting her off.
She said nothing, just giving you a once over. Holding your gaze as if she wanted to verbalize what was in the back of her throat. Something that scared her. She shook her head as if shaking the thought away.
“No promises.” She said, hopping off the counter, and walking away.
I watched her leave wondering what she was going to say. A part of me wishing she would just say it.
Natasha spent the last 2 week dropping ways to put you on Maria’s radar. Finding ways to subtly get us in rooms alone. She would call in favors like making me turn in her old mission reports to Hill’s office. It was mortifying. Eventually Maria and I bonded over our mutual annoyance over the red head’s antics. Now becoming good friends, even sparking rumors of us dating on the low.
Which only seemed to bring the opposite of what I was expecting for the red head to react. She was cold, and her remarks now snappy around me, losing all the teasing aspects of our bickering. No longer the easy going partner, but standoffish and kept me at arms length.
It was a week after this change in attitude. You were back in your room in the shield compound located in Washington. You couldn’t sleep. You stared at the ceiling fan as it went in circles. The faint humming as it went around seemed to grow louder by the second. You contemplated turning the tv on. Or maybe taking a walk to get some water. Yet you stayed glued to the bed, your legs not wanting to get up.
You kept your eyes open not trusting the images that would find their way to your eyes if you closed them. Another person choking for air in your hands. A smoking gun, a broken glass lodged in their throat, a burned hand looking for a way out.
A sigh left your mouth, and a sick twisting slithered it’s way to your stomach. Like a twisting knife digging itself deeper into the pit of your gut.
You felt the urge to eat, or throw up, or scream.
I finally sat up, rubbing any traces of tiredness from my eyes, they were now well adjusted to the darkness. They took in the shape and outline of the room.
You took a deep breath trying to settle the sick feeling. It only deepened the pain. I groaned in frustration. Maybe that trip to the kitchen was necessary.
I stood up and walked lazily from my room to the elevator. Passing Natasha’s door, on the way there. I push the button and wait for the doors to open. The only sounds are the faint creaking of the elevator as it rushes down to my floor.
It opens up for me the light signaling me to step in. Before the door closes, a hand halts it, the sensors opening up revealing Natasha's face looking up at me with a knowing expression. You didn’t know how to feel with her inside. So you don’t respond to it.
She steps inside wordlessly and leans into the wall. No words are spoken, just the sound of the elevator going down.
I try not to look at her, not wanting to spark a conversation. I simply stare at the doors, wishing the ride would go faster. She must’ve felt the same way, because she didn’t say a single word to me. Not even acknowledging my existence. It was comforting, in an isolating familiar way.
We make it to the kitchen, and she takes a seat on the barstool in front of the kitchen island as I scout the dimly lit kitchen for Pepto and crackers.
“Rough night?” She asked cautiously.
I nodded still digging around the cabinets for the Pepto. The stomach pains growing worse by the second.
I could feel her staring at me. Analyzing me carefully. She has been doing this ever since I met her when we were kids. Yet ever since I finished my deprograming, I felt a new level of subconscious and insecurity when she stared too long. As if she was almost waiting for me to crack, as if I wasn’t safe to be around.
This triggered another round of pain. I bit my lip to stifle a wince. My eyes flickered to the crackers before the Pepto, I purse my lips in annoyance. I snatched it and turned to face the girl. She had her elbows on the counter and her hands propping her head up, her green eyes watching me. Her expression was unreadable, but I also was too tired to try to break it apart. I placed the crackers in front of her, turning my back to her again looking for the ginger ale next.
“Stomach pains,” She guessed.
I nodded again, not wanting to talk. I shuffled to the refrigerator grabbing a canned ginger ale. I placed all the ingredients in front of the red head. My eyes are now meeting hers, now not caring enough to keep looking for the pepto tablets.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked her, as I opened the can, a soft pop and sizzle echoed into the room.
Natasha hummed a yes, watching me take a sip of the ginger ale.
“You knew that tho.” She replied, grabbing a single cracker from the now opened wrapper.
I narrowed my eyes, and shrugged. “Do people like us get a good night's sleep?” I asked bitterly.
She chuckled dryly, “Only when drugged.” She answered.
At that I smiled, and offered her my can of ginger ale. Which she took appreciatively. I could tell as she swallowed she wished it was something stronger, probably Vodka.
The night was quiet and we both nibbled on the crackers.
“You eat something bad?” Natasha pried.
I pursed my lips, sighing a little bit. I could see her trying to break down my walls. Trying to make me vulnerable. This caught me by surprise. I licked my bottom lip, and rubbed my eyes, tiredness gnawing at me now.
“What gave it away?” I questioned with a smirk, trying to keep the tone light.
Natasha tilted her head looking at my midnight snack then back at me eyebrows raised. Definitely didn’t take a detective to figure this one out. I sighed, licking my lips, wondering how to word the truth.
“I...normally get stomach aches...after uh my nightmares.” I mumbled, not making eye contact.
Natasha's eyes hardened at my statement.
“I remember…” Natasha whispered, her hand revealing the box of pepto tablets.
I snapped my eyes to meet hers. There it was. The acknowledgement of our messy messy history. Her fingers slid slowly and quietly until they found my hand. I flinched and instinctively moved away. Clearing my throat, and ignoring her hurt look.
“Um I’ll make us a peanut butter sandwich.” I told her, trying to move the subject along. She registered the fact I was avoiding confrontation. I silently hoped she’d allow the tiny roundabout the topic.
“The pepto is a peace offering.” She said, stopping me from my task.
I nodded slowly as I grabbed the bread and Skippy peanut butter. Hesitantly I looked back at her, her green eyes patient on mine. She was trying to convey a message, without saying it. This was her passive way of opening a door. I sighed, placing the bread and peanut butter down.
I realized as I studied her, this was just as hard for her as it was for me. She was being intentional. She was making a point to remind me, she knew me better than most. Putting her top of mind. As if she wasn’t already top of mind. This put things into a new light. Butterflies now replace my stomach pains, with nervousness.
“Are you bribing me to forgive you for being an ass to me?”
“Depends...is it working?”
I frowned, not feeling particularly amused. She tried to keep a neutral gaze. But I could tell I was making her nervous. I open my hand, signaling for her to give the pepto to me. She held my gaze before handing me the pepto.
I open it up and take two. I look back at her, giving her a small smile. I purposefully reach out my hand again, offering it to her. She looked at me suspiciously. Trying to decipher the motive behind my act of affection.
“We’re good?” She asked.
“We never stopped.” I answered.
That must’ve hit a chord. She swallowed hard and took my hand. This is the most affection I’ve allowed myself to take part...in honestly years. It must’ve been mutual because she also had a reserved, stiff look about her. Her hand was soft, and cold in mine. I let my thumb softly caress her hand.
“You’re a good person Nat. You’re kind, and brave, and you go out of your way to make sure the people you care about are taken care of.” I started verbalizing all my observations of her from the past year. “You push people away, especially when things get too real for you...which I get. Just don’t push me away.” I finish, giving her hand an assuring squeeze. I went to let go, but her hand stopped mine, holding on tighter.
This surprised me. I raise my eyebrows and look at her confused. She looked vulnerable, her eyes holding a look of disbelief, and insecurity.
“...Stay with me tonight. I’m not going to sleep any time soon.” She whispered to me, her voice tight.
Her hand was tight in mine, as if she’s afraid I was a ghost, about to vanish into the night. I nodded, placing my other hand on the top of her hand that was squeezing mine.
Her body held a tightness, but her eyes seemed more relaxed. As if she just needed me to say those words.
“but I’m going to finish making us the sandwiches.” I said pointing to the bread and peanut butter.
Natasha gave me a look, almost saying really? now? I savored her annoyance. Retribution for the weeks of hell she gave me. I did everything in slow motion, Natasha getting more and more pissed off by the second. Once I made the sandwiches I followed the red head to her room. Both sandwiches in my right hand.
She let me in, her bed neatly made. As if she hadn’t touched it all night. I dropped the sandwiches on her coffee table. And looked at her with a curious look.
“You sleep on top of your covers?”
I let an “oh” fall from my lips.
Understanding waking up from a nightmare so bad there's no point in staying in bed. I sat on the edge of her bed taking in her room. The lack of pictures and decorations, fitted. Spies don’t have time to take up recreational interior designing. Yet one thing caught my eye, a bag of ice seemed to fall on my back. Shivers running up my body.
Her ballet shoes.
I’d remember those red ballet shoes anywhere. Black widow standard issue. I didn’t realize I had walked to them until my fingers were brushing against the worn silk fabric. Nat’s hand stopped my own. I snapped my head to hers, she had a hard look on her face. She was studying you, her green eyes dark and seemed to look straight into my soul.
“What was your nightmare?” I asked her.
She pursed her lip, her hand still on mine. We were frozen in front of the tiny red ballet shoes. Haunted and connected by the same thread. I could see she was debating sharing that information. I almost expected her to change the subject.
“It’s more of a memory that haunts me...” She says carefully.
I think of my own nightmare. Suddenly okay with her saying nothing about it. My stomach pains, now coming back to the surface.
“Nat you don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” I responded.
She considered that, and she moved her hand away from mine. My hand now feeling cold and alone at the loss of contact. She moved to the edge of the bed and motioned for me to follow.
“What was your nightmare?” She asked back, it was framed as teasing but her eyes held the same intensity.
I hesitated, not knowing if I could even verbalize it. I groaned and sat down next to her, my hands on my knees for support. The words caught in my throat as I saw the images in my head. I looked back at her and forced myself to speak up.
“Faces...I see the faces of people I’ve killed, how I killed them, the last look...almost begging for me to extend mercy.” I croaked my eyes stinging with the confession.
I took a deep breath and cleared my throat, trying to find some level of control. Avoiding her green eyes, not wanting to look too vulnerable and pathetic. Natasha frowned, and leaned her head on my arm. A silent understanding falling between us. It felt nice. I felt safe and comfortable with her. A warm feeling spread into my chest, as we sat in silence. I could feel wet drops, soaking the sleeve of my hoodie. I peaked over to find tears falling down her now rosy cheeks.
I didn’t know what to say, so I settled for an action. I moved my arm to engulf her in an embrace, her face now resting on my shoulder as I held her. I guess in this way, we knew each other better than others would ever know us. I rubbed her back letting her cry in my arms. Hoping she knew I was a safe person for her.
“I killed her.” She whispered in between sniffles. “She was only 8 and I killed her...blue eyes frozen in fear...I felt her body go limp in my hands.” She murmured into my shoulder.
I took a deep breath, a new weight shifting from Natasha to me. I wondered if that’s how she felt when I uttered my confession earlier. I held her tighter, my hand making it into her hair, stroaking it softly. It was a long time until I heard her voice again.
“Do you remember her? Amelia. She was in your class, the best one...she challenged me to a spar. I strangled her to death. I watched the color drain from her face.” She said her tone getting harsher at the memory, her Russian accent suddenly making an appearance.
I nodded silently, I did remember Amelia. Every class of the red room slept in one giant room together, she slept two beds away from me. I also remembered hearing about her being choked to death. That’s when Yelena became number one in our class.
“I do, she broke my collarbone during training once.” I remembered aloud, I meant it to make her smile.
Yet I could hear her body stifle a sob, “She was just a kid, and I killed her.” She choked out, her tears rushing out.
I held her, until she stopped shaking and her body was still in my arms. I moved away to see her puffy green eyes locked on the wall flicker to my own. My hands moved to her shoulders. I gave her a gentle look.
“We did what we did to survive...” I mumbled to her. “You should rest.”
I stood up to leave, Natasha held my arm, not letting me get farther than her arms length. She wasn’t looking at me. She whispered something that I didn’t catch.
“Nat?” I questioned.
She whipped her head to meet me. Her green eyes shimmering with tears. “Stay...just for tonight.”
My breath hitched. I knew this would be the only time I’d ever hear Natasha ask me something in this way. It was a vulnerable pleading. If her goal was to break down my guard. She did it, with that one look. I nodded and she laid down on her bed, pulling my arm with her. I held her quietly until she fell asleep.
I listened to her breathing, the only thing I could see was her red hair in front of me, as her hand held my arm around her waist. Tiredness was catching up with my own eyes. I felt comfortable...safe even, with the red head in my arms. I didn’t know what to do with that reality. Or with the warmth expanding in my chest like a balloon. Yet I figured we’d cross that bridge when we got there. I let myself relax, letting sleep finally consume me. Feeling somewhat braver with the redhead next to me.
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loki watching that one dude get pruned in the ticket line
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Loki: hey dad
The Grandmaster: yes?
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The Mahaigner - Chapter Eight
Why is in character dialogue both the easiest and also the hardest part of writing a story I-
They were the last to arrive at the meeting room. Its tall doors were swung wide open and from inside, she caught the hum of hushed conversation.
Madeline was still surprised that she was allowed to be present at the meeting, given as it seemed so important. Why would the ex-Avengers want her, a virtual civilian, listening to critical or sensitive information? Unless it concerned her specifically, then she was glad they were including her.
She couldn’t help comparing the room to the Avengers Compound. It wasn’t a huge room—just large enough to hold a long, glass table—but had a high, vaulted ceiling and reaching glass windows that overlooked the city. It was dark now and Wakanda was glowing like one gigantic neon sign.
“Madeline.” Ivanoff gave her a tiny nudge, acknowledging the man in front of her who needed no introduction, though she still provided one. “King T’Challa.”
“Your highness,” Madeline said, bowing even more awkwardly. Shit, should I have curtsied? Or is that just a European tradition?
The king chuckled, waving dismissively. “Don’t worry, we don’t do that here.”
As if Ivanoff could sense her embarrassment, she nudged her forward towards the table in the center of the room. “You could have warned me before hand,” Madeline whispered fiercely.
Ivanoff shrugged. “It’s happened to all of us—basically a rite of passage at this point.”
Madeline found herself placed between Wilson and Loki, and before she could protest, her escort had already walked away and seated herself on the former’s other side. To avoid looking at anyone else, she laid her folded hands on the table and instead studied the identical rings left on her wrists by the cuffs. Just how long would they remain?
T’Challa took his place at the head of the table, opting to stand rather than sit. Once everyone was seated, he didn’t waste any time delving into the subject of the meeting. Madeline leaned forward eagerly.
“I’ve just received word from Everett Ross that he knows we’re hiding several fugitives,” T’Challa said. He sounded grave—a stark contrast to how he had sounded just a few moments ago.
“How does he know?” Rogers looked up, concerned.
“He didn’t disclose that information.”
“It could be a bluff. He could be trying to force us out of hiding,” Ivanoff pointed out.
“And if he’s not?” Rogers asked sharply. “If he really does come here, and figures out that Wakanda is hiding not only a known Asgardian war criminal and General Ross’s current most wanted, but also several other highly wanted fugitives?”
“Then we risk ruining Wakanda’s relations with the rest of the world,” Ivanoff said.
“We won’t force you to leave,” T’Challa assured, “that’s something you must decide for yourselves. Perhaps you can take a vote?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” said Romanoff. It was odd to see her without her iconic red hair. “I’ll go first. We should leave.”
Her blunt response set fire to the room. “And go where?” Wilson asked, surprised by her declaration.
“We can find somewhere,” Maximoff said. “It’s not as if we aren’t used to undercover work.”
“If we leave, we’re going back to the compound,” Rogers said firmly. Maximoff pursed her lips, looking as if she wanted to object, but ultimately decided against it. “I vote that we do as well.”
Ivanoff hesitated, looking between her friends. “I know what your answers are,” she said, looking at Wilson and another man who Madeline was decently certain was the Winter Soldier. “And I think you know mine, too.”
“Three against three doesn’t get us very far.”
All heads swiveled to T’Challa. He shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I said I was abstaining,” he reminded them chidingly. “You should talk this over. Maybe then you can come to a compromise.”
It was no wonder the Avengers fell apart, if they so often differed and argued without seeking common ground. Madeline got the feeling the king played mediator a lot—she could see why he was a good leader.
“We’ve been running for long enough,” Rogers said, “sometimes you have to know when it’s time to recompense.”
“Recompense?” Ivanoff practically snorted. “We weren’t the only ones at fault. But we were always the ones who tried to reach out. And now we—what, turn ourselves in?”
“She has a point,” Maximoff pointed out haltingly. But her face was still the picture of confliction.
“It’s time,” Romanoff said, as if she thought that would magically end the conversation. “We can’t sit back and let them invade Wakanda, ruin their foreign relations, turn Bruce into a lab experiment—”
“They will lock us in prison,” Ivanoff seethed. “And that will help nobody.”
“And if we stay, and they come here and still arrest us?”
“So, we have to leave.”
“We can’t let them do what they did to Wanda again,” Wilson backed Ivanoff up, “if Clint were here, he’d agree.”
“Low blow, Wilson,” Romanoff warned.
“Well, he isn’t.” Rogers steered the conversation back on track quickly. “Because he cut a deal.”
“To be with his family.”
Madeline glanced to Loki. If he felt as uncomfortable and out of place as she did, he was hiding it very well. The ex—or secret, whichever—Avengers were arguing as if they were the only ones affected—what about Dr. Strange? Or Astrid? Or the Asgardians? Or her and Loki?
“Is there any way we can rescue them without turning ourselves in?” she asked hopefully. They were superheroes, for crying out loud—surely, they could pull something like that off.
“Not without it ending in a fight,” Maximoff answered tiredly.
“Does she get a vote?” Wilson asked, pointing to Madeline and then Loki. “And him?”
“They’re not Avengers, are they?” Romanoff countered. The answer seemed to be “no”.
“Neither are we,” Maximoff responded.
“Technically, we’re still the Avengers. Just—secretly,” Wilson piped up.
“I do think we should go back,” Madeline offered, ignoring their surprised looks. Did they think she wouldn’t say anything just because she didn’t get a vote?
“Isn’t it really Ross’ fault that the two of you ended up in this situation in the first place?” Ivanoff asked, though it sounded like she already knew the answer.
“Well, yes,” Madeline agreed. “But I don’t want other people to take the fall for a problem that I created.”
“But you weren’t the one who arrested them,” Ivanoff said. “Which is what will happen to you if you go back.”
“Tori,” Rogers began, placatingly, as if he was trying to soothe an agitated animal, “this isn’t the same situation as it was a year ago. You can’t let what happened then cloud your judgement now.”
“You’re bitter,” Romanoff summarized shortly.
Ivanoff stared back at both of them incredulously, shifted uncomfortably, and folded her arms before muttering a quiet, “I should go.” When she turned to leave the room, her fists were glowing deep purple.
T’Challa sighed and surveyed the assembled group carefully. “Think it over,” he suggested.
Madeline dropped her gaze. Wise advice.
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[START] [ABOUT AND WARNINGS] [FAQ]
Steve/ Agree to the trip to Vermont. Fall foliage sounds romantic.
“The trip to Vermont sounds perfect, Steve,” you agree.
Steve hums, and leans down, completely ignoring the fact he hates PDA. He brings his lips to yours and as the two of you dance, he kisses you deeply.
It’s a few weeks before the two of you can organize a weekend that you’re both free to get away together. He picks you up in the morning in an SUV and the two of you take the long drive up the coast together.
They say that road trips will make or break a relationship. Being trapped in a car with anyone for hours could kill the best of relationships. But if you’re on the same wavelength, it’s a great time to just sit and be together. Steve’s driving style is a little erratic. He has this very dad-like quality about control of the radio and not putting your arms out the window, yet he drives like a maniac and you sometimes wondered where exactly he got his license.
It’s a nice drive even with those things. The further north you go the redder the leaves on the trees got and he stops anytime you see something you want to check out. So by the time you’ve arrived at the inn Steve has booked for your stay, you have a trunk full of homemade preserves, interesting antiques, moon pies, and maple candy.
The Inn overlooks the river and is a classic Queen Anne building. Pumpkins sit on the front porch and all around the trees are so vibrantly red, that when the sun hits them just right, it looks like they’re on fire.
Everything inside is old and cute, adding to that feeling of stepping back in time. Steve checks in and the lady that runs the place sees you to your room. It’s an eclectic mix of golds, blues, and greens, but everything has that ‘heritage’ look. The lamps all have Tiffany-style glass lampshades, and the sofa chairs are all wingback. The bed is a hardwood four-poster with light white drapes hanging from it and a patchwork quilt folded over the end. The rest of the furniture matches the same dark wood and is all sturdy and beautiful. In the bathroom, the sink is vessel style sitting on a hardwood vanity and the bath is an old clawfoot slipper tub. Fresh baked cookies sit on the dresser and the sweet scent of them blends with the floral undertones from little bowls of potpourri sitting around the room. It’s the kind of room you think of when people say they’re going to ‘weekend in Vermont’ and everything you had hoped for when Steve had invited you away for the weekend.
“Remind you of the good old days?” You tease as you close the door behind you.
“I’m not that old,” Steve chuckles, pinching your side.
You squeal and wrap your arm around his waist. “It’s very cute here, we’re going to have such a nice weekend.”
Steve pulls you close and kisses you deeply, you melt into it, your lips moving with his, and as his tongue flicks out over the corner of your mouth, you bring yours to meet it. He pulls back very slowly, and you chase his lips for a moment before looking into his eyes feeling a little soft at the edges.
“Shall we go out for a walk? Take advantage of this crisp fall air?” Steve asks.
Agree to the walk
“How about we try out the bed instead?”
I know I don’t write fics for the comments but getting comments/feedback on my chapters literally makes my whole day.
The best is when someone goes through the whole story and comments on chapters as they go. I get to watch their reactions and it’s just 🥺🥺
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The Mahaigner - Chapter Seven
When you're not sure what to put but you want to put something:
Madeline was jolted awake as the aircraft shuddered. And it took her more than a few frantic moments to realize that she was causing the turbulence.
Shooting up, she uncurled her left arm and leg. Both were buzzing like a television with no signal. Despite that, she guessed she hadn’t been asleep for long. “You okay?” Rogers called from across the jet. He was strapped in a seat—as was everyone else, she realized.
“I think so,” she replied, nodding. She rubbed her arm and avoided looking at them again. “That’s never happened before.” In all the times she’d known about her powers, they’d only ever manifested when she was awake. Assuming, of course, that she would know if she had used them in her sleep.
“That was you?” Ivanoff asked. She didn’t seem too surprised, just as if she wanted to confirm a suspicion. “Told you it wasn’t wind.”
“I don’t know if I should be relieved or more worried,” Wilson said. “Can you control it?”
Madeline considered her options: lie or confess that there was a strong chance she might drag them right out of the sky. “It’s touch and go,” she settled.
Ivanoff’s brows lifted. “We’ll have to work on that. But we’re almost there, so hopefully that one was just a fluke.”
Madeline blinked, her curiosity piqued. “How do you control your powers?”
The ex-Avenger hesitated. “It’s complicated,” she said finally, “A combination of things. I’ve been practicing keeping them down for so long it’s second nature and using them doesn’t require a lot of work. But it’s like a part of me is always concentrating on them, even if I’m not actively thinking about them at all.”
“Do you ever slip?”
She nodded briefly. “Yeah. When I’m really cold, or sick. Or pissed off—” her eyes flickered to Loki “—that can affect them. At least a little.”
“Would it ease your mind if I stopped breathing?” Loki asked, a blasé edge laced into the rhetorical proposition. Apparently, he had also noticed Ivanoff’s side-eye.
“No, it would just give me guilt, unfortunately,” she said matter-of-factly. “But tell me, did the last person you tried to kill forgive you so quickly?”
“My brother has the gift of being incredibly forgiving and also stupid at the same. So yes, I suppose,” Loki answered, his bored tone wavering.
“Yours is a strange family.”
Wilson snorted, evidently paying closer attention to the conversation than Madeline had previously thought. “Says the woman who faked her own death to avoid being imprisoned by her cousin,” he said, sounding unfittingly amused.
Ivanoff looked almost affronted. “Excuse me. I did almost die. It’s not my fault that him and everyone else thought I actually did,” she returned. Wilson stifled another laugh.
“Could’ve called him. He has that old ass phone Steve gave him,” he replied, shaking his head.
“Steve,” she declared, pointing to Rogers, “could just have easily told him I was alive in that letter.”
Rogers sighed, quite loudly, head buried in a tablet. “Please, leave me out of this.” He sounded less than thrilled. Judging by the nature of the conversation, it seemed to be one they had had many, many times before.
Madeline got the distinct feeling this was usually how the topic was shut down. There was a nagging voice inside her head saying that Ivanoff was wrong—she was dodging the issue, as if she thought Stark didn’t care. Or that she thought he shouldn’t know she was still alive. That if he had known she was alive he would never stop trying to throw her into some maximum-security prison.
She didn’t have much experience with these types of family problems, but Madeline could recognize regret when she saw it.
Somehow, though, this didn’t seem the time or place to say such a thing. Ivanoff may have deserved to know, but she probably didn’t want to. So, despite her better judgement, Madeline muted her conscience and turned her gaze away to a nearby wall that was suddenly looking a lot more interesting.
“When we land, I’ll let Shuri know to have a look at you,” Ivanoff said, changing the topic. “Make sure they didn’t do any permanent damage. They looked like a different version than what I’ve worn.”
“Well, upgrades and such,” Madeline murmured, shaking out her arm one last time. Finally, the tingling was gone.
Rogers looked up from his work. “Are we close, Sam?”
“A minute, according to these coordinates. You sure about this? Crashing a plane into the side of a mountain isn’t really how I want to go,” he answered, staring suspiciously at the forest in front of them. Madeline gulped and strapped herself in, feeling as though she were in some sort of game, racing against a clock. Quick! Fasten your seatbelts before you crash into the hillside!
“I have to say, I agree,” Loki commented. “This doesn’t seem all too safe.”
Rogers stared out the cockpit window stoically. “Just wait.”
Madeline squeezed her eyes shut in nervous anticipation as the jet neared the hillside. But the impact never came, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a futuristic city nestled in a valley instead of a bright white light.
“This is Wakanda?” she asked, astonished. “This isn’t what I was expecting.”
Ivanoff smiled a little. “It never gets old.”
“I’ll speak to T’Challa, explain the situation, since they were only expecting us to bring Loki,” Rogers spoke, directing his statement at to his companions. “Make sure her powers are handled as quickly as you can, just in case.”
“Let’s take her to Shuri’s lab, then,” Ivanoff responded, but she didn’t sound extraordinarily concerned. Madeline hoped her powers wouldn’t manifest and knock somebody out again before that. The last thing she needed was to be arrested again.
The jet banked ever so slightly in response to Ivanoff’s words. Madeline had a good guess where she was going now.
There was barely a shudder from the plane as they touched down. The ramp lowered, and the sun blazed into her eyes. She squinted and fumbled with the release to her seatbelt straps. Was that sunrise or sunset? Probably sunset, but regardless, the jet lag would follow.
“We’re here,” Ivanoff said, breaking into her thoughts. “You’re ready, I hope.”
Madeline rose from her seat and looked cautiously out the door—she always knew, deep down, she’d end up in a laboratory eventually. “Should I be worried?”
Ivanoff shrugged. “Probably not.”
They exited the jet, the laboratory looming before her. It reminded her more of a monument than anything—an architectural feat, a unique work of some type of metal, rising like a dagger into the golden sky.
A stiff breeze lifted Madeline’s hair off of her shoulders and into her eyes, and she had to peel it away from her face just to see the ground beneath her feet. What exactly awaited her inside? She was staking most of her hope for safety on the assumption that the ex-Avengers wouldn’t lock her in a prison or lab out of fear that she was evil or dangerous. Given their history with superpowers, she didn’t think they would. But she figured she had every right to doubt.
After navigating the bright hallways of the building, they entered what she assumed was the laboratory. No sooner had they stepped foot inside then they were greeted with a cheery voice. “And what do you bring me this time, Miss Ivanoff?”
“Hello to you to,” Ivanoff said, rolling her eyes in a way that was somehow playful, as opposed to the usual condescending way Madeline had picked up on. She presented Madeline with a small flourish. “I bring you another broken white girl.”
“I appreciate the challenge.”
Ivanoff bumped fists with the young girl who stood waiting for them. “I think every time I come, I bring some new project, Shuri. But if you’re okay with it—”
“Okay with it?” Shuri echoed. “I love it. Gives me reason to look forward to your visits.”
“Ouch,” Ivanoff said, feigning hurt, though it didn’t last very long. The corner of her lip quirked up and she passed the power cuffs off to Shuri. “You’ll have fun with this one.”
She examined the cuffs closely. “Are these what I think they are?”
“Yep. Power draining cuffs.”
“Better than the ones they put on you,” she nodded to Ivanoff, “they’ve improved the quality since then. But they’re still too dangerous.”
“I noticed. I passed out just a few minutes after they put them on,” said Madeline.
“That makes sense. But it isn’t a side effect of your powers going away. Think of all the times Tori used drugs to suppress her powers and never had any lasting effects.”
“Except for the withdraw,” Ivanoff reminded.
“Yes, except for that.”
“So, then what made me pass out?” Madeline asked, puzzled.
“These cuffs are designed to slow your heart rate and put you in a sort of comatose state, so you’re physically unable to use your powers,” Shuri explained. “It’s beyond dangerous for long term use, as we’ve seen before,” she nodded again to Ivanoff. “Unfortunately, the UN is perfectly okay with killing enhanced people if it means they can’t use their powers.”
“That sounds about right.”
“After Siberia, when Captain Rogers brought her here, I was able to take the cuffs they used on her and adapt them into a prototype so that they work without killing the person they’re on. But if you’re okay with waiting a little longer, I’d like to make some adjustments as needed. I’m sure Tori’s abilities and yours are very different.”
“Wildly,” Madeline muttered.
“What can you do, exactly?”
Madeline shrugged. “Pull the souls out of people?”
Ivanoff stopped short. “What?”
“I’m not entirely sure how it works, that’s just how Dr. Strange explained it to me. And I can’t control it—it just happens.”
“How many times has it happened?”
She mentally recounted the incidents. “Three, now. But it’s gotten more frequent.”
“And on the quinjet? What happened there?”
Madeline’s memory flickered back to her last day at the compound. “I think that I can animate things. Mostly jets, it seems.”
Shuri sifted through the various items lying on her worktable, brows furrowed. “Like psychokinesis?”
She shook her head slowly. “I think it’s different than that.”
Shuri directed her towards a chair, holding her selected equipment. Madeline eyed it critically. A thermometer? A blood pressure monitor? This was starting to seem more like a doctor’s visit than anything. “Not gonna lie, I was expecting something a little more…” she hesitated, “probey.”
“Later we can run more extensive tests,” Shuri assured her, eyes bright, “MRIs, blood tests, cellular evaluation. But right now, you need to rest. And there are many ways to detect enhanced abilities. Even through something as simple as your heartrate.”
Shuri pressed the cold end of the thermometer, which looked more like a tiny handgun than anything, against her forehead. After a few seconds it beeped, and the young girl scribbled something on a chart that was on the table. As she was taking her blood pressure, Madeline took the opportunity to look around the lab.
Though the walls were mostly dark, and the windows peered into a dimly lit cave, the laboratory was still bright. But not in the harsh way she would have imagined a lab would like. This seemed more… welcoming, with a clutter of projects spread across the various workbenches. She made a mental note to ask Shuri all about them next time she was in the laboratory.
She was startled out of her admiring by an insistent beep. She looked down to her arm, but it wasn’t the blood pressure monitor. It was Ivanoff’s pager, and by the look on her face, it was something important. “That was Steve—he says we have to get back. Now.”
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Sorry I disappeared again, but here's a little AvAc Stony doodle
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